


Hold Me Down Now

by SushiOwl



Series: Pigments and Pentacles [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Come Eating, Lapdance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5872846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some birthday cake and a birthday dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Down Now

**Author's Note:**

> Omg this took forever to write, I'm so sorry. Well, I actually didn't write a thing for like two months and then wrote this in a couple days. I'm so bad. I have no excuse. I'm just an asshole, but I love you guys. :D 
> 
> The rating is mature because there is sexual content, but it's not explicit.
> 
> Song: [Hold Me Down by Halsey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAHRurZfmHo)
> 
> I didn't proofread this at all. :D

“Are you sure he wants a Spider-Man cake?” 

“Of course he does. Why not?”

Carina blinked slowly and blandly. “Because he’s not a child. He’s turning twenty-one, not twelve.”

Peter quirked a brow up at his pack mate. “This is Stiles we’re talking about. He has Spider-Man pajamas.”

Lips twitching a little, Carina fought the need to smile. “Oh. Okay then.” She turned and started putting candles on cake, snorting very softly.

Peter just smiled, turning toward the presents on the table, which he was stacking neatly. Six of the presents were from him. He just kept seeing things he liked, and he loved the joy that crossed Stiles’s face when he opened gifts.

When he finished organizing the presents, he looked over to assess the progress of the decorations. Dan and Reggie were trying to hang a banner straight, but Reggie was a bit on the short side, and Dan was a tall creature. 

Dan was laughing as Reggie reached up as high as he could on his toes. “Do I need to get you a chair?” he asked, terribly amused.

“Only if you want it smashed over your head,” Reggie growled at him, sounding close to dropping his fangs.

Dan pinned his side of the banner and turned toward Reggie with a laugh. “Could you even reach?”

Making a deeply agitated face, Reggie dropped his side of the banner and gave Dan a golden eyed glare. “I’ll show you reaching.” He immediately realized that was neither sensical or threatening. He huffed as Dan laughed. “Shut your fucking face, you--”

“Boys,” Peter said, cutting right through the tension and deflating it like a balloon. “Try to stay on task, please.” He managed not to smile as Dan and Reggie sank in on themselves like scolded children. 

Dan moved over to pin the other side of the banner up as Reggie sulked over to the helium tank Peter had rented and started blowing up balloons. The balloons were red with the spider emblem on them. Everything was Spider-Man themed, even the paper plates and cups. Stiles was highly likely to roll his eyes, but he was going to love it.

Nearing the time that Stiles was going to get home from class, the whole living room and dining room had been transformed in party decor. There was so much food on the counters of the kitchen, all topped with lids to keep them hot. In the fridge, there was beer, stuff for mixed drinks, sake and beer. If Stiles was now able to get legally drunk, then he had every right to get totally shitfaced.

Peter heard the sound of the elevator stopping at his floor and recognized the jingling keys that always hung from Stiles’s jeans. “Everybody hide!” he hissed, and they scattered. Peter hurriedly turned off the light and ducked to the side of a bookcase, out of the line of sight.

After a moment or two, the door opened, and Stiles let out a little ‘hm,’ before the lights came on. Everyone jumped out of their hiding places and yelled “Surprise!” Reggie popped some confetti, and Peter was definitely making him vacuum that up.

Stiles looked shocked, eyes tracking around the room. He ended up looking at Peter, who gave him a smug grin, but instead of bursting into an overjoyed smile like Peter expected, his brows bowed, his eyes went wet, and he _wibbled_. 

“Uh,” Dan said after thirty seconds where no one knew how to react.

Stiles let out a broken sob, tears rushing down his face as he wiped at them.

Peter crossed the room, over his surprise, and he gently took Stiles’s blotchy red face in his hands. “My love, what’s wrong?” he asked, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

With a wet sniff, Stiles pressed close, his face against Peter’s shoulder. “I found out that I ha-have one semester left at-at school.”

Peter put his arms around Stiles, his brow furrowing. “I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” he said gently, not wanting to trivialize whatever had Stiles so upset.

“Doesn’t that mean you’ll get your degree soon?” Carina asked as she appeared next to them with a handful of Spider-Man napkins.

Stiles nodded against Peter’s shoulder, before he turned his head and took the napkins. He wiped roughly at his face, making it even more red, before he blew his nose loudly. “Yeah, but that means I only have like seven more months before I can get a job.”

Peter rubbed the back of Stiles’s neck. “And this is a bad thing?”

Stiles pulled away, sniffling and looking at Peter like he was heart broken. “I thought I would have more to - to convince you to come back to Beacon Hills with me.”

Peter’s brow nearly hit his hairline. “What makes you think I need convincing?” 

Stiles chewed his lip a second. “You just remodeled your shop,” he said, insisting. “And you have a pack here.”

Peter looked at the others.

“Dude, the only reason I’m still in Palo Alto is because of you guys,” Carina said with an unbothered shrug. 

“Same,” Dan agreed.

Reggie snorted. “Where my alpha goes, I go.”

Peter looked back to Stiles.

Stiles looked surprised, and he sniffed as a few more tears fell. “But, I’m just…”

Peter caught Stiles’s face again. “Just what? My mate? My reason for happiness? I told you before that I’m not letting you go. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. With us.”

Stiles looked up into Peter’s eyes for a long moment, and Peter could see the cloud of sadness being chased away slowly. He smiled and then grinned, before sniffing again. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, wrapping his arms around Stiles.

“Pack hug!” Carina shouted, before she crashed into them and squeezed. Stiles let out a wheeze, and Peter felt his back pop.

Dan and Reggie came over to join the hug, and Stiles looked happier and happier by the second. Peter was pleased, taking deep breaths of pack and mate. When they all parted, he gave Stiles a loud smack of a kiss on his cheek, making him laugh.

Everyone kind of herded Stiles over to the table with the cake, and he squealed when he saw it. “Fuck yeah, Spider-Man,” he crowed, and Peter sent a smug look at Carina.

Before they cut into the cake, they piled food onto their paper plates and sat around the dining table. Stiles sat at the head of the six person table, looking pleased with the birthday boy crown Carina had plopped on his head.

“So what’s Beacon Hills like?” Reggie asked as he swirled his spaghetti on his fork. “Is it a big city?”

“More like a tiny town,” Peter said with a snort.

“You have to drive three towns over to go to a mall,” Stiles added around a mouthful of food.

Peter reached over with a napkin and wiped off the little bit of sauce Stiles had on his chin. Stiles smiled widely with his cheeks all puffed out.

“There is a wildlife preserve in Beacon Hills,” Peter said, and the other two werewolves looked deeply interested. “My family owns the land.”

“So are you going to be living on that land, or?” Carina questioned.

“No, but my nephew and niece are there.” Peter stabbed a meatball and pulled it off his fork with his teeth.

The rest of the pack was so confused, they might as well have had question marks above their heads. Peter could see the questions they wanted to ask. Why wasn’t Peter with his family? Why did he leave Beacon Hills? Was there bad blood there? Did they want to put themselves in a position where there could be a pack war?

“Don’t worry,” Peter told them all. “I’ve patched things up with my nephew and niece, more or less. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind us moving into their territory and running on the preserve. They’re even more atypical than we are. They have two alphas.”

The confusion among the pack seemed to double, and Peter let out a sigh. There was nothing for it then. He was going to have to tell them the whole story. “Several years ago, there was a fire…”

When Peter was finished explaining, there was silence for a long time, then Reggie stood up. Peter thought he was going to just leave, but instead he came around the table and enveloped Peter in a hug. Peter blinked against Reggie’s arm, before he turned so he could hug him back.

Dan hugged him too, then Carina. She’d known the jist of the story, but knowing it in its entirety made her eyes water.

“Hey now,” Stiles said, his voice a bit thick. “It’s my birthday. I want the most hugs.” Then he laughed as the pack pounced him.

Carina pulled Peter into the hug too, smiling up at him. “You're the best alpha anyone could ask for,” she told him, before she looked at Stiles and said, “And you’re the best emissary.”

Stiles started crying all over again, but it was a good cry.

After cake and presents, Dan, Carina and Reggie took their leave. Peter took a few deep breaths of their lingering scents and felt his wolf practically purr in pleasure. He didn’t know how he’d survived so long without a pack. He wasn’t ever going to give it up again.

When Peter closed the door and turned to Stiles, he snorted to find his stuffing his face with more cake. He wasn’t going to scold Stiles, because it was his birthday and he could do what he liked. “Leave some for the rest of us,” he said as he went into the kitchen to grab a trash bag for all the wrapping paper.

By the time he came out again, Stiles had abandoned the cake and was fiddling with one of his presents. It was an Iron Man toy from Carina, Japanese in make with a small body and large head. Peter started cleaning up as Stiles fussed with the toy, which seemed to refuse to do what he willed it to. When all the wrapping paper and used plates and cups were disposed of, Peter came back out into the living room and Stiles was on the couch, looking through one of the comic volumes out of the set Reggie had given him. _Saga_ it said on the front.

Peter moved over to him, putting his hand on the back of the couch to loom over Stiles and nuzzle his ear. Stiles squeaked and swatted ineffectually at him. “I have another present for you,” Peter told him.

Stiles let out a frustrated sound, tipping his head up to look at him. “Peter, we talked about this. You have a dollar limit, and don’t even tell me the _six_ presents you already bought me didn’t fly screaming right past it.” He hissed the cleft of Peter’s chin.

Looking a little guilty, Peter had to concede a bit. “Well, yes… but this one isn’t material.” He set the comic aside and took Stiles’s hands, pulling him up. Stiles allowed this, squinting at him in a distrusting way. “Come, sit here.” He urged him into the huge and comfy captain style armchair that had plenty of room for what Peter had in mind.

“Should I be worried?” Stiles asked, leaning back and setting his hands on the arms of the chair. “I’m worried.”

Peter chuckled and went over to their stereo, picking up the iPod and scrolling through the artists.

“Are you about to give me a lapdance?” Stiles asked, letting out a giggle. 

Peter gave him a smirk over his shoulder as he picked a song and set it on the dock. The music started as he turned and lifted a brow. Then he began to move his hips to the beat.

“Homigawd,” Stiles breathed out, before he covered his mouth with his hands, eyes wide.

 _My demons are begging me to open up my mouth. I need them mechanically make the words come out._

Peter didn’t hurry his movements, rocking his hips back and forth. He’d practiced this while Stiles was at school, so he had a whole routine planned. He lifted his arms above his head, knowing his shirt would show a strip of stomach. 

Stiles’s eyes snapped to it.

_They fight me, vigorous and angry, watched them pounce. Ignite me, licking at the flames they bring about._

Peter ran his fingers down his front slowly, thumbing over his nipples on the way to his waist. He undid his leather belt buckle and slid it slowly out of the loops one by one with a quiet hiss. He dropped the belt, and it clinked as it hit the ground.

_I sold my soul to a three-piece, and he told me I was holy. He’s got me down on both knees, but it’s the devil that’s tryna--_

Peter snapped his hips back and forth as the beat went from 0-100 in an instant, catching the hem of his shirt and rucked it up. He smirked at the way Stiles’s eyes flicked around a bit like he didn’t know what to look at. Abs? Navel? Happy trail? Nipples? He was determined to see it all.

_Hold me down, hold me down. Sneaking out the back door, make no sound. Knock me out, knock me out. Saying that I want more, this is what I live for._

Pulling his v-neck slowly over his head, he dropped it on the ground and moved slowly closer to Stiles. In kind, Stiles reached toward, his fingertips brushing Peter’s skin, before Peter grabbed his hand, pinning it to the headrest of the chair. Then he grabbed Stiles’s other hand and did the same thing. “Stripper club rules,” he purred into Stiles’s face. “I can touch you, but you can’t touch me.”

_Hold me down, hold me down. Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown. Knock me out, knock me out. Saying that I want more, this is was I live for._

Stiles puffed out his cheeks like an angry hamster. “But it’s my _birthday!_ ”

Peter laughed, before he kissed him fiercely. “It’ll be better if you wait,” he promised him, and Stiles let out a whimper before nodding. Smiling, Peter popped the button on his pants.

_Selfish, taking what I want and call it mine. I’m helpless, clinging to a little bit of spine._

Drawing down the zip was audible even with the music, and as he swayed, Peter pulled the flaps apart to show the flimsy black underwear he was wearing, slung low to do little to hide his pubes.

_They rush me, telling me I’m out of time. They shush me, shh, walking me across a fragile line._

Peter turned, slow as he worked his pants down by tiny increments. He heard Stiles let out a tiny noise of need and decided he deserved a little for being so good, with limited complaining anyway. He pushed his pants down over his ass and revealed that the dainty black underwear he was wearing was in fact a thong.

“Oh, Jesus Christ on a cracker,” Stiles whispered hurriedly.

_I sold my soul to a three-piece, and he told me I was holy. He’s got me down on both knees, but it’s the devil that’s tryna--_

Peter slipped his pants down, letting them pool around his ankles before stepping out of them. He put one knee on the chair next to Stiles’s legs, leaning in to brush their lips together just barely. Stiles’s hands tightened on the back of the chair as he whimpered.

_Hold me down, hold me down. Sneaking out the back door, make no sound. Knock me out, knock me out. Saying that I want more, this is what I live for._

Peter thrust his hips with the beat, his dick hanging in the flimsy fabric of the underwear and dragging lightly back and forth across Stiles’s thigh. He shifted, putting his other knee up so he was straddling Stiles, grabbing the top of the chair and grinding down.

Stiles let out a sharp noise, sucking in a quick breath and swallowing.

“You like that?” Peter asked, hooking his thumb in the thin black band over his hip, pulling it out and letting it snap back. 

Stiles let out a moan that was definitely the affirmative.

_Hold me down, hold me down. Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown. Knock me out, knock me out. Saying that I want more, this is was I live for._

Peter slid back onto his feet and turned while circling his hips. He set his palms on the arms and slid into Stiles’s lap, grinding his butt against him. Stiles whispered something blasphemous.

_Hold me down now. Hold me down now. Hold me down._

Arching his back to jutt his butt out more, Peter focused on the rolling of his hips. He could smell Stiles’s arousal, a sharp, spicy scent the Peter wanted to bury his face in. After the song was over, he was going to fuck Stiles into abandon. Or let Stiles fuck him. Birthday boy’s choice, of course.

_I sold my soul to a three-piece, and he told me I was holy. He’s got me down on both knees, but it’s the devil that’s tryna--_

Peter shifted, still moving and pressing harder, and he could feel Stiles’s erection straining against the cleft of his ass. Stiles was panting, and the chair was trembling just a little with his effort of holding still. Arching his back, Peter turned his head to kiss Stiles’s cheek and neck inexpertly. He caught Stiles’s earlobe with his teeth and tugged a little.

_Hold me down, hold me down. Sneaking out the back door, make no sound. Knock me out, knock me out. Saying that I want more, this is what I live for._

Stiles let out a noise that sounded almost like distress, his knees jumping, before he whispered a sharp, “Fuck.”

The smell hit Peter’s nose immediately, and he couldn’t help the smug smile that threatened to break his face. He slid to the floor as he turned toward his mate, and Stiles stared down at him, lips parted and eyes nearly closed. Peter gazed up at him as he took hold of Stiles’s hips and pulled him closer so his ass was almost dangling off the chair.

“Fuck!” Stiles hissed, his hands shooting down to grab the arms of the chair. “Warn a guy.”

Peter didn’t say anything, instead opening up Stiles’s pants and inhaling the scent of Stiles’s come. The front of his boxers were wet, his dick still tenting them as he went soft. Peter leaned in and sucked at that stain, his lips sliding over the length of Stiles’s cock. He relished that near wounded sound Stiles’s made.

_Hold me down, hold me down. Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown. Knock me out, knock me out. Saying that I want more, this is was I live for._

“Hate you,” Stiles whispered as Peter pulled down the front of his boxers to lick at the rest of the come.

“No, you don’t,” Peter said in a sing-song way.

Laughing Softly, Stiles sagged a little. “No, I don’t. I love you.”

Looking up, Peter gave him a sweet smile. “I love you too, Stiles. Happy birthday.”

Stiles gave a crooked grin and brushed a hand through Peter’s hair. “It is. Now take me to the bedroom so I can get on your dick.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He had Stiles over his shoulder in a flat second and carried the giggling human to the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Whooo! Okay, I think there will be two or three more of these before the series is finished. Hopefully I'll be able to churn 'em out quick. But don't quote me on that. -smooches you guys-


End file.
